I Will Help You Die
by Maisie Malfoy
Summary: In a rotting chamber, the Death Eaters may play with Harry as they please. But as they salvage new victims, they begin to lose interest, and the boy who lived is given to someone whose bloodlust will never truly be sated.


**Written for Dragon!**

 **I think a simple overall Fenrir Greyback warning covers this piece nicely, so there's that.**

 **Note: this is a mashup of several different AUs. Voldemort wins!AU, anyone-can-kill-Harry!AU, etc.**

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Harry couldn't remember what it was like not to be locked up. Definitely since the battle, since the Order fell and the Death Eaters were free to begin their reign of terror. But in the dark, damp, cold environment, the line between hours and days and weeks was blurred beyond comprehension.

The food they gave him was rotten. He hadn't had a bath of any kind since he got there. But these horrors paled in comparison to the unspeakable tortures that lay within the chamber.

The Dark Lord, merciful as he was, had allowed his most trusted followers to play with Harry as a reward for their service. And play they did. Bellatrix would flay him to within an inch of his life while her husband looked on with one hand in his trousers, then close the deepest wounds so he would live to see her do it again and leave. Alecto and Amycus developed a habit of slicing Harry open for a few rounds of sudoku on his back. When they ran out of space, they reopened his scabbed-over wounds and continued.

He began to lose track of who would do what. Not that it mattered. They all wanted one thing, and that was Harry's blood.

But as they were wont to do, the Death Eaters eventually grew bored of him. They'd found new toys to play with, and he was cast aside in their favor. At last, the only one who still bothered with him was Pettigrew, and even that was rare.

It was because of this that the Dark Lord, upon learning that Harry had survived, decided to have him given to another follower.

Harry was thrown to Fenrir Greyback.

The werewolf strode into the chamber with a feral grin claiming his features. Even after everything he had experienced at the hands of those with marks, a new fear seized Harry as he looked up at Greyback, wondering what exactly it was that he planned to do with the boy who lived.

Greyback circled the wizard who trembled in spite of himself, looking for a juicy place to take his first bite. So much beautiful skin...so much blood would pour from a decent-sized bite, and at the mere thought the werewolf began to salivate.

He knelt beside Harry and sank his teeth into the side of the boy's neck.

A groan of pleasure came from Greyback as the coppery taste of Harry's blood spread over his tongue. He made a few more holes in the boy's skin, then leaned back to admire his handiwork, the blood thick around his mouth as he gave himself over completely to the wolf inside.

Greyback remained in his human form, but the rest of him was fully transformed as he spent a while simply attacking every inch of flesh he could reach. Harry tried not to cry out in pain as Greyback's teeth penetrated his skin, but as tears sprang to his eyes from the agony of it all, it became unavoidable. Their cries mingled, a perfect harmony of pleasure and pain.

By the time he gained a reprieve, Harry couldn't name a part of his body that didn't hurt. Everywhere he looked there was blood. He tasted it, smelled it, felt it. And just looking at what he had created, Greyback was lost in a euphoric haze.

He was tempted to fix the worst of Harry's wounds and return to do it again, but even in their state of disinterest, the werewolf feared someone else would finish the chosen one off first.

No, if Greyback wanted to be the one to end Harry Potter, he had to do it now.

When his fangs tore into Harry's throat, the boy had almost begun to wish for it. Of course there was blood, the blood that Greyback so craved. Harry's tears drifted down to meet it as his breath hitched and was gone.

Greyback was overcome with the desire to drink the remaining blood. His taste for that would never be truly sated, but what remained on the body might be enough until his next living meal. Then there was always what still lay within. If he got to it in time, Harry's heart might still be warm enough…

Teeth bared, the werewolf got to work.

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 **Reviews are always appreciated.**


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